


where credit is due

by CinderScoria



Series: her name is jade [6]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Gen, spoilers kind of not really for the end of season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Janine doesn't ever really know what to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where credit is due

**Author's Note:**

> a nonny requested "It's all my fault" for Janine/Simon and I took it and ran. Drabble length, again, because I worry about doing long posts on Tumblr. Also because I'm, like, hella lazy.

When the mission reports are filed and done with, Janine goes to find him. She’s careful to avoid Runner Five, whose piercing gaze isn’t accusing but certainly isn’t sympathetic either, and flat out ignores Sam, who is all gentle reassurances and “It’s all right, Janine, it’s not your fault.” When it is, it is her fault, her decision, her mistake, her responsibility.

Not Simon’s.

She knows where to find him: at the empty playground, standing behind the tire swing, a silhouette against the setting sun just over Abel’s walls. His legs are kicking at the ripped and ruined but still usable carpet, his head bowed, his hands gripping the rope. Janine comes up behind him.

“It’s all my fault,” he says. His words are dull and toneless and he sounds a bit dead.

“It isn’t.”

When he laughs it’s a bit hysterical and desperate, and she knows he doesn’t find a single thing funny about the situation. “Eleven kids dead,” he responds, not turning around to look at her. “Eleven kids we couldn’t save.”

“Because of my decision–”

“Because of  _my_  decision–” he interrupts. “My suggestion, yeah? My idea planted in your head?” He pauses, takes a breath like he’s about to say something else, but shakes his head instead.

Janine blinks. “You did not know the Dedlocks would be there. You did not know there was a settlement of teenagers in the area. You could control none of this. You and Five were lucky to escape alive.”

Instead of soothing Simon’s fears the words seem to have the opposite effect. Simon’s shoulders raise with tension while his head lowers, his forehead coming to rest against the coarse rope holding the tire swing up.

She steps forward. She doesn’t know what to say. Janine doesn’t ever really know what to say. Comforting people isn’t her strong suit–that’s Sam’s area of expertise–but Simon is in obvious pain. They aren’t… well, it’s an apocalypse in which they all might die at any given point in time, so there’s no need to form such attachments. But, Janine supposes, she and Simon could be considered more than friends. More than whatever else came before the world went gray.

“There’s no use holding onto what could’ve happened,” she says. “Or what should’ve happened. It’s over and done with, and nothing you or Runner Five could’ve done will change that. This is a war, and there are casualties. People will die. Even children.”

Her voice isn’t soft and it isn’t gentle. She hates that she doesn’t know how to make it so. Instead she puts a hand on his shoulder. His muscles coil tightly before he jerks away, whirling to face her as he snarls, “Don’t fucking  _touch me!”_

The explosion echoes throughout the playground and makes a few heads turn down the way. Simon’s face is blotched and flushed and his eyes are the sort of angry that can’t be brought back with words.

And then his mouth… his lips twist into something that could be called a smile–to apologize for the outburst, to reassure her he’s still here, to pretend it’s all fine and he’s fine. But it isn’t. The sun dips halfway below the wall, the fire blinding her as she tries to pick out his face.

“Casualties, Jenny,” he says. “Suppose that’s all we are nowadays, aren’t we?”

He kisses her cheek when he passes, like he’s over it now, but Janine can smell the salt in his tears.


End file.
